


And then there was Cake

by melagan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2161029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No plot. John just wanted to see Rodney in a garter belt and stockings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And then there was Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



A very late birthday gift* for [](http://popkin16.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**popkin16**](http://popkin16.dreamwidth.org/)

*

Rodney barreled into their assigned quarters, barely lifting his eyes from his laptop. A half-beat later, he froze in place and slowly gazed around the room. John sauntered in behind him with a wide grin on his face.

Their accommodations were extravagant, to say the least. Embroidered tapestries hung from the walls and thick, decorative carpet covered every inch of the floor. Round, crystal globes the size of walnuts, illuminated by an unfamiliar power source, hung on fine wires that webbed across the ceiling lending a soft glow to their surroundings. Rich colored blankets and a bevy of fat pillows decorated the large, four-poster bed.

"What are you scowling at?" John asked. "Just look at this place." He flung his arms out wide and turned in a circle. "You've got to admit, it's a lot nicer accommodations than we usually get off-world. Unless you're suddenly missing our four-legged roomies back on PR7-449? I didn't know you had a thing for mud huts, and goat herding, McKay."

"Ha-ha, very funny. No. I mean yes, this is much nicer than that hovel on PR7-449 but doesn't it seem…" he twirled one hand in the air, "bordello-ish?"

"It's warm, dry, and we don't have to share it with a pair of goats. I call it a win." John shrugged. "Maybe they got a little carried away with the throw pillows but I think we can deal."

"Says the man with sparkly curtains. Okay, fine, I'll try to relax and enjoy it." Putting down his laptop, Rodney shrugged out of his tac-vest. "Since we're here for the night anyway, I suppose we might as well get comfortable."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Rodney's heart raced at the words and his fingers fumbled at the strap of his thigh holster, taking him twice as long to undo. John was doing that leering thing. That thing that meant good, hot, filthy things were about to happen, hopefully involving his ass. Swallowing thickly, he asked, "I thought there was a _not off-world_ rule?"

"Not tonight." The sound of Velcro ripping filled the room as John tore open the two largest pockets on his tac-vest. "I've got something—we'll just call it non-regulation—in mind." With that, he pulled out a pair of black nylon stockings and a matching black garter belt. He held them up for Rodney to inspect.

"Jesus, John. Your kinks are going to kill me." Rodney trailed the fine, black nylon through his fingers, and a shiver ran down his spine.

"You like it."

"That's beside the point." His weak protest fell on deaf ears. Damn it, John knew him too well. Handing the stockings back, he asked, "You'll put them on me?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way." John stepped close, so close he filled all of Rodney's senses. Fighting down the urge to curl his hands into John's shirt, to rip it off and plaster himself against all that warm skin underneath, he took a step back The effort left his hands shaking and his control short to hell.

"Bastard, I can't get my damn hands to work. This is all your fault. You smell too good. You could at least have the decency to help me out of my clothes before you have your wicked way with me."

Closing the gap between them, John laid his hand over Rodney's, stilling them. "Nervous? I think this could be good, but we don't have to if you're uncomfortable."

Rodney leaned forward, letting his forehead rest on John's shoulder. He forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. The way John rubbed his back in long calming strokes helped. "I want to do this. I just didn't expect to want to, so we're expanding my comfort zone here."

His admission came easier, breathing his confession into John's neck, than it ever would saying it face to face. It was a pity he couldn't do this during some of their more trying staff meetings. Of course, Elizabeth might not appreciate seeing Rodney cuddled up to John when they were discussing something like, oh, the destruction of planets. Then again, she might.

"I can feel you smiling." John slipped his hands under Rodney's shirt. "Heads up." He pulled it off and tossed it aside. Rodney figured he'd go straight to undoing his pants next, but instead he paused, seemingly fascinated with the naked expanse of skin in front of him. John's caresses ranged from playful to intense, as his fingers explored Rodney's chest. By the time he finished, Rodney's nipples were aching for any kind of attention. He reached up to pinch them himself but John knocked his hand away. "Patience. We'll get there."

"I hate you."

"Sure, you do." John carefully eased Rodney's pants and boxers down over his growing erection. "You should hate me more often. It looks good on you." Kneeling, he cupped Rodney's balls, humming softly as he hefted the weight of them in his palm. He reached back further and rubbed gently; slow circles of pressure, torment, and promise.

"I hate you extra." Fuck. That wasn't supposed to sound like a whine. "John, can we please get my pants all the way off now? I feel silly with them bunched around my ankles."

"We will. After I suck you." John cocked up one eyebrow. "As long as you don't have any objection?"

Rodney clamped his jaw and zipped his mouth shut. Seconds later, he was rewarded by the warm, wet heat of John's mouth. Despite, or maybe because of, the way his knees trembled, his hands found their way into John's hair and held on. He tried not to pull but he needed the anchor, especially when John sucked hard, taking him deep. Fuck, John was swallowing now, the muscles of his throat working, pulling, dragging Rodney straight to orgasm. Unless he wanted this over already, he had to say something. "John…too much...it's too soon."

With an obscene pop, John pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Right. Sorry. I got carried away."

"Lost in the moment?"

"Something like that." John grinned. "C'mon, let's get the rest of this stuff off." He made short work of the rest of Rodney's clothes and his own. He caught Rodney's look and lifted an eyebrow. "What are you staring at?"

"You." Rodney's gaze slowly roamed over John's body and he licked his lips. "God, I want to suck you."

"I want that, too. But first—" He held up the garter belt. "I want to see you in this."

He waited patiently and even managed to keep the comments down as John settled the delicate piece of fabric and elastic around his hips, fussing with the closure and the hang of the garters until they met some personal requirement that Rodney couldn't begin to hazard a guess.

Having John's hands so close to his cock, the tiny, feather light strokes and brush of his knuckles as he arranged the garment to his satisfaction. It didn't help that the silk fabric felt smooth and sensual against his skin. He wasn't sure he was going to survive the addition of stockings.

John, finally achieving some secret pinnacle of satisfaction, stepped back to admire his handiwork. "I think the rest of this will go easier if you lie on your back on the bed and put your legs up in the air."

"Like I've never heard that before," Rodney muttered. "Okay, okay, I'm doing it." He settled on the bed, stuck one leg up in the air, and wiggled his foot. "How the hell you expect to find this attractive, I have no idea." A long silence hung in the air. "John?"

"Give me a minute." John sat on the side of the bad, stockings crushed in his hand. He seemed to be having trouble breathing.

"Are you okay?" Rodney had to ask. "You're being taciturn, even for you."

"Shh." John ran his hand slowly down the length of Rodney's leg from heel to thigh. "I always forget how pale and unscarred your skin is."

"Just because I'm not some over-muscled military goon does not…I mean it never seemed a problem before. Um, it's not, is it?"

"No. It's not a problem." John leaned forward and mouthed at Rodney's ankle. He took his time, working his way down and eventually reached the tender crease of Rodney's inner thigh.

"You're stopping now? But, but why?" Rodney's hips lifted from the bed in a useless attempt to get John's mouth back where he wanted it. He did not whine. Probably. Besides, he felt perfectly justified in doing so. He'd long ago concluded that John's mouth should be registered as a lethal weapon and this just proved it.

"Oh, stop squirming. I know what you want. You're a slut for rimming, anyone ever tell you that before, McKay?" John's face screwed up in an odd expression. "Uh, don't tell me if they did."

Sensing the mood was about to shift, the very last thing he wanted, Rodney realized he was going to have to confess a truth. Just peachy. He threw his arm over his eyes and quietly admitted, "Only you. Believe it or not, there aren't that many people that find me particularly charming, let alone have a fascination with my ass. If you must know, it's only been you." He lifted his arm enough to peek at John. "I knew it. You're smirking."

"Am not," John smirked.

"For god's sake, put the damn stockings on me and stick your tongue up my ass so I can come already!"

"Tsk. And you say people don't find you charming." Grinning, John began working the nylon down over Rodney's leg, taking his sweet time with it, and then, finally, after an eon of teasing, snapping it to the garter belt. He took just as long with the second. Rodney's fingers dug into the mattress. There was absolutely no need for John to take this long—stroking and caressing every inch as he worked.

"Hate you. Hate you. Hate you."

"I know." John tenderly kissed Rodney's stocking-clad knee. "I hate you, too."

"Do you hate me enough to fuck me now?" Rodney asked, barely holding back a moan.

"Through the goddamn floor."

John pinned Rodney's arms over his head and settled in between his legs with a smooth roll of his hips. "Wrap your legs around me," he demanded with a low growl.

Breath hitching, Rodney did, because clearly John was a genius. Lost in the slick glide of John's warm body, the nylons created a silken barrier that intensified every nerve ending he owned. He was dizzy with it—dizzy with want, lust, and need.

John laid a hand on his hip and urged him to turn over. Lying there, ass up and spread open, the pillow did little to stifle his moans as John arranged him to his satisfaction. This new position stretched and pulled the garters taut against the back of his thigh, making him more aware than ever of how they felt and how wanton he must look.

John ran his finger under the garter and slowly trailed down the length of it. "You look amazing."

That's all the warning he got before John's mouth was suddenly there; licking, nipping, teasing his ass and Rodney pushed back, wanting more. He made a grab for his dick, needing to touch himself, but John slapped his hand away. "Mmrfkr!" Stupid pillow. God, he was going to have to lie here and take it, which, okay, didn't really seem to have a downside.

Loose and wet from the rimming, he was close to coming when John stopped. Bastard. Before he could utter a complaint, he felt John's fingers sliding into his asshole. First one, circling, playing with him, then the second, and finally, he got down to business and used both to fuck him. "God, finally."

"You are such a horny princess," John murmured affectionately. "My horny princess and don't you forget it."

"Mmmyesyours. 'member." Well past caring if he made any sense, Rodney stroked his cock while John applied the lube. "iz't three?"

"Yes, three fingers, Rodney. If you get any looser I'm going to lose my whole hand inside you." John chuckled, low and dirty sounding. "Judging from your reaction, I think you like that idea. Maybe we'll try it some time."

John's cock nudged at Rodney's hole and his hands curled over the top of the nylons, pulling Rodney back, urging him to take every inch.

Rodney tossed his head back and groaned. Full, he felt so goddamn full. It was always like this when John slid into him, satisfying a craving he never knew he had. He could feel John moving in him now, rough, erratic thrusts, and Rodney couldn't resist tightening his muscles around John's cock, wanting to feel that stutter of motion, needing to feel fucked full.

"I hate you," John said, shaking. His grip on Rodney's thighs tightened. "Not going to make it last if you keep doing that."

"Yes, we agreed. We've mutually hated each other for long enough that I'll have Chuck arrange an anniversary party for us as soon as we get back. Just, you know, hurry up and fuck me already. Dying man here."

"You'd do that?" John asked, too unbelieving for Rodney's comfort.

"Well talk about it later. Just remember, I put on a garter belt and stockings for you. What in this galaxy makes you think I wouldn't do something that gets us cake?"

"You're lucky I understand Rodneyspeak." John grin was warm against his skin. "Here's some Johnspeak for you. Brace yourself."

Every thrust of his cock went deep, toe-curling deep, and straight on target. John fucked him hard, relentlessly, with a wild abandonment that made the bed shake. Moaning Rodney gripped the headboard and pushed back into it, knowing he would feel it for a week.

With a final thrust, John came and the feel of it, the way his grip tightened, dragging Rodney roughly against him, pushed Rodney over the edge. He'd barely even touched his cock. Scrambling to shove the bedding with the worst of the wet spot aside, he collapsed in a satiated heap.

"So, anniversary cake?" John asked, as he settled beside Rodney. A smug smile teased at the corner of his mouth.

Rodney laced their fingers together. "Any flavor you want. As many flavors as you want." A horrible thought crossed his mind and he sat up. "Do not think for one minute, Sheppard, that just because you got me into a pair of stockings, that you can talk me into wearing a dress!"

John didn't answer. He was too busy bent over laughing like a loon. Tempted beyond bearing, Rodney smacked him with the pillow.

Later, feathers still drifting in the air, John asked, "Think if we save Teyla enough cake, she'll explain this mess to the natives for us?"

"I don't know." Rodney bumped his shoulder against John's. "She doesn't hate you as much as I do."

~*~

*Much thanks to [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=mischief5)[**mischief5**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=mischief5) and [](http://mezzo-cammin.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mezzo_cammin**](http://mezzo-cammin.dreamwidth.org/) for making this a better story.

This entry was originally posted at <http://melagan.dreamwidth.org/335327.html>. Please comment however it pleases you.


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